The Marshalls
by Kit
Chapter 9
A few days after his discussion with Connor in the tent, Mike appeared in the open doorway of John's bedroom.
"I'm bored with beating you on computer games, and there's nothing on TV," he complained.
John, who'd just finished a phone call to his brother, wondered if the redhead had been hanging around in the hallway, waiting for the call to end.
"There's another game we can play," Mike continued. "Connor sort of invented it, and we both made up the rules. I've never played it with anyone else, but maybe I can trust you."
More in hope than expectation, John wondered if the game referred to might be something sexual.
"How much you trust me is up to you," he replied, "but I always keep my promises."
"Okay," Mike said, coming into the room and sitting on one of the beanbag chairs. "Have you ever played Truth or Dare?"
"No, but I know what it is."
"Well, this isn't the same," the redhead replied, smirking. "It's actually Truth or Pass."
"So how do we play?" John asked, mildly irritated by Mike's mocking tone.
"There aren't many rules, but it's very important not to break them. We take turns asking questions. You don't have to answer a question, but if you do answer, it mustn't be a lie. If you don't want to answer, you can just say 'Pass'. If someone says 'Pass', then you can't put pressure on them to answer, and you must wait at least two days before asking the same question again. Anyway, if they pass, you get to ask a different question."
Mike paused and looked directly into John's eyes as he added, "The most important rule of all is that everything we say in the game has to be kept secret. You must never tell anyone. If you do, we'll never play the game again, and I'll never, ever trust you."
John felt that this was very complicated and solemn for what seemed to be just a simple and slightly childish game. However, Mike clearly took it very seriously, and there was an opportunity to spend private time together, so the older boy readily agreed. At first, the questions were very simple, covering topics such as favourite foods, movies, and music. All of that solidified John's view that it was just a light-hearted game for kids. However, it wasn't long before Mike took the questions into less trivial topics.
"Who beat you up?" he asked.
"I thought foster kids didn't ask about their backgrounds."
"That's usually how it is, but it's okay in the game. After all, you can always pass."
"My dad," John admitted. "Have you ever been beaten up?"
"Lots, but not for a long time. How often did it happen to you?"
"That was the only time. Who did it to you?"
"My mum's boyfriend. He never needed a reason. I think he just enjoyed hurting people who couldn't fight back. Why did your dad beat you up so bad?"
John didn't want to go into detail, and, feeling a little guilty, he offered up the first 'Pass' in the game. Instead of going on to ask another question, as the rules allowed, the redhead gave a little smile and stood up.
"Okay, next time we play, I get to ask the first question," he said triumphantly. "Now I fancy a hot chocolate. Do you want some?"
When John went to bed that night, he thought about the game and realised that it wasn't as simple as he'd originally supposed. It had the potential to become quite challenging. On the surface, it was just about obtaining information and getting to know the other person, but there were additional layers below that. Even a 'Pass' provided information, and asking certain types of questions was a form of psychological probing.
Also, it appeared that questions that would normally be unacceptable would be allowed in the game. Another, and perhaps the most important, aspect was that the circumstances around a 'Pass' could determine how much trust there was between those who played the game. If trust increased over time, then the same question asked at a later date might get a meaningful answer. He began to understand why the rule about secrecy was indeed the most important.
One evening a couple of days later, Mike asked John if he wanted to play the game again, and much to the older boy's surprise, the redhead invited him into his room. Up until then, John had never been inside the room and had merely caught glimpses when the door was left open a crack. Apart from the single bed and the slightly darker shade of blue on the walls, Mike's room was much the same as John's. The redhead sat on his bed and started with his first question even before his guest sat on a beanbag chair.
"Did you enjoy playing the game last time?"
"I'm not sure that 'enjoy' is the right word, but I'm glad we did it, and I'd like to play more," John replied, smiling a little. "Did you stop last time because I passed?"
"That's a question, and it counts," the redhead replied with a sly grin. "Anyone can stop the game anytime, but it's usually easier after a pass. If one of us passes, the other can ask a different question, but sometimes it's a good place to stop. What's the reason you want to keep playing?"
Mike was puzzled when the other boy didn't reply for several seconds. After all, it was a simple question and not one that would be expected to make John consider passing. The delay was because John was wondering if he should answer with just a partial truth. Eventually, he summoned up all his courage and decided to take a risk.
"There's more than one reason. It's interesting and better than being bored." John paused and looked down at the floor before continuing, "And, well, it's nice getting to know you better."
Surprised by the response, Mike frowned and eventually broke the silence.
"You didn't ask a question," he pointed out.
"Oh, right," John acknowledged, remembering that it was his turn. "Have you ever had a girlfriend?"
"No. Have you ever had a girlfriend… or boyfriend?" the redhead asked, increasing the stakes.
"No, neither, never," John replied, noting the slightly suggestive tone in which the other boy had used the word 'boyfriend'. After thinking for a couple of seconds, he asked, "You said you got beaten up a lot. Didn't anyone see the bruises and report it?"
"He could do it without making bruises, at least not where you can see," Mike said without showing any emotion. "You don't look like most people round here. Where were you born?"
"Here in Meedford, but my mum was from the Philippines. You don't have a local accent, so where are you from?"
"Wolverhampton. What happened to your mum?"
"She died when I was a baby. What about your parents?"
"I've no idea where my dad is 'cos he left when I was a baby. I don't care where my mum is, but I think she's still in prison," Mike said bitterly. "Did the police arrest your dad for beating you up?"
"No. I told them that it happened outside the house and I didn't know who did it," John replied. In an attempt to avoid follow-up questions on that topic, he tried to distract the other boy. "Are your pubes the same colour as the hair on your head?"
"Almost, but just a little bit darker," Mike replied quickly, giving John the impression that the redhead was more comfortable talking about pubes than about accents. "Why did your dad beat you up so bad?"
Realising that his attempt to distract the other boy had failed, John remained silent for a few seconds while he considered how to reply. Of course, he could pass, as he'd done previously, but he decided to show that he was beginning to trust Mike.
"He found out that I'm gay. Will knows, but I'm not ready for anyone else to know," he said eventually. "Actually, I sort of wondered if you might be gay. Are you?"
"Yeah, but only a few people know. Erm, why did you wonder if I'm gay?"
John now regretted bringing up the topic of being gay, and he was feeling embarrassed and flustered. Although he felt that Mike guessed the truth, John wasn't ready to express it openly.
"Pass," he said.
"Okay," the redhead replied, smiling a little. "I'm feeling peckish, anyway. Let's go and see if we can have some cake."
One evening, while Liam was practising on his keyboard and Stephane was busy on his laptop, Connor finished his homework and went to speak with his big brother.
"Are you going running with Mike this weekend?" he asked.
"No. Do you have a particular reason for asking?"
"So, can we all go riding on our bikes?" Connor asked.
Paul knew that his brother shared his need for frequent physical activity, so he wasn't surprised that Connor would want to go riding at the weekend. However, the boy was usually quite spontaneous about such things, and Paul wondered why he was making a point of asking about it now.
"Yes, of course we can, but you could go with Stephane and Liam even if I went running with Mike."
"Yeah, but it's better when we're all together," the boy replied, "and I wanted to ask if it'd be okay if Oliver came with us."
Since the beginning of the new school year, Connor had mentioned the names of a few new friends, but the friend mentioned most frequently, especially recently, was Oliver.
"I suppose it would be okay if his parents don't object. I should probably speak with them first. Presumably you have his phone number?"
"He lives with his aunt so that he can go to our school," Connor said. "His parents live near Birmingham."
When Paul spoke with Oliver's aunt, she was terse, though not unpleasant. She quickly gave permission for her nephew to go cycling with them, and she seemed a little surprised that her permission had been requested. All she wanted to know was when and where he would be going and when to expect him back.
Having got no information from Oliver's aunt, Paul decided to try to learn something about the boy from Connor. Apparently, after Oliver had applied for a place at the grammar school and won a scholarship, his father had to move for his work. The fact that the firm also provided relocation expenses persuaded Oliver's parents to make the move. However, as their son had already obtained a place with a full scholarship at a prestigious school, they arranged for him to stay with his mother's sister.
"He misses his mum and dad, even though he gets to talk to them most days and lives with them in school holidays. But I thought that while he's here in Linchester, it'd be nice to be with a real family like ours." Connor said. He blushed slightly, and almost as an afterthought, he added, "And I like being with him."
On hearing his brother refer to their household as a 'real family', Paul felt a rush of happiness and pride.
"He's welcome to go riding with us," he said. "And depending on when we go, he can have lunch or tea with us, provided that it's okay with his aunt."
"Great. I'll tell him. I think he gets lonely stuck in his aunt's flat at weekends."
"What about his friends from primary school?"
"He only had one real friend, and he stopped talking to Oliver after he got the scholarship." Connor frowned in disapproval. "I bet he was jealous."
One of Paul's favourite places to go cycling was the moorland north of town, and their usual route out of town was via Raikes Lane. That was conveniently close to where Oliver lived, and that was where they arranged to meet up with him at ten o'clock on Saturday morning. When Connor told his friend that Paul had invited him to have lunch at their house after the ride, Oliver accepted the invitation with a mixture of gratitude and nervousness.
When Connor got home from school on Friday afternoon, the first thing he did was to ask Paul for permission to make a chocolate pineapple cake.
"That's an unusual combination for me," Paul said, "so I'll need to check recipes."
"Oliver says that's his favourite," Connor said.
The weather on Saturday morning was cloudy and cool, but it was dry, and there wasn't much wind. Although Paul's group wasn't late, Oliver, wearing a plain grey sweatshirt and black shorts, had been waiting for several minutes and was beginning to shiver. His bike was old, a little battered, and clearly well used, but it was still serviceable.
Oliver was a strong and energetic rider, so he quickly warmed up and stopped shivering. He and Connor had little competitions, racing on ahead along the quiet country roads and almost disappearing out of sight before allowing the others to catch up. During the ride, Oliver was clearly at ease with Connor as they chatted and called out to each other, but he became quiet and reserved when the others were nearby. When they got to Paul's home and started pushing their bikes around the side of the house and toward the bicycle shed, Oliver became quite shy and almost timid.
Having eaten many meals with his brothers, Paul was accustomed to the appetites of growing boys, but Oliver's ability to eat so much was a wonder to behold. The pineapple chocolate cake that was served at the end of lunch was greeted with much gratitude by Connor's new friend, who eagerly consumed two large slices. Liam was not so keen on the flavour combination, but he was too diplomatic to say so. After all, it was cake, and he'd never encountered a cake that he didn't like.
After lunch, Connor gave Oliver a brief tour of the ground floor of the house and then the two boys started trying out some video games. Feeling a little guilty for spoiling their fun, Paul pointed out that Connor needed to shower and get changed before they went to have their evening meal with his godparents. Stephane, who shared Liam's opinion of the combination of pineapple and chocolate, encouraged Oliver to take home the leftover cake.
Almost as soon as Connor crossed the threshold of Aunt Anne's home, he started to tell her about his day so far. Paul realised that was mainly because of the boy's innate enthusiasm, but he also wondered how much might be tactical. By giving her so much information up-front, there would be less for her to interrogate him about later.
Paul helped to clear the table after the meal, and at one point he was alone in the kitchen with his godmother. With a knowing smile, she teased him quietly.
"It seems that you've collected another waif and stray."
He knew immediately what she was referring to, and he pretended to be offended.
"Liam and Connor are my brothers, and Stephane is neither a waif nor a stray," he replied. "And neither is Oliver. He's just Connor's friend."
"Was Mike just Connor's friend? Are David and Sarah just your brothers' former foster parents? Are John and Will just people you met at the foster home?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Or is it more likely that you've inherited your gran's ability to charm people and make them want to enter your orbit?"
"Oliver was collected by Connor, and he's only visited once," Paul pointed out. "If he does visit again, it will be to see Connor."
"And to enjoy the welcoming atmosphere of your home," Aunt Anne said as she turned to leave the room.
One evening in the middle of the following week, Stephane announced to the brothers that he'd been informed of the school placements that had been assigned to him as part of the course. Over the course of the year, there would be three placements, each of eight weeks and each at a different school. The first placement would start at the end of September.
"Did you pick my school?" Connor asked with a mixture of hope and trepidation.
"We don't get to pick; it's assigned. They want to give us experience with a variety of schools in different areas with different types of students. And no, your school isn't one that I've been assigned."
"What about Mike's school?" Connor asked.
"No, that isn't on my list, either."
"Are you nervous?" the ever-empathic Liam asked.
"Just a bit, but I'll make sure I'm well prepared."
"And I'm sure the kids will love you," Paul said confidently.
Although Connor knew that Stephane was an easy person to like, he just rolled his eyes at the idea that a teacher could be loved by his students.
"Anyway," Stephane said, "I wanted to tell you about this so you'll know why I'll be very busy over the next few weeks."
"Will you be too busy for learning guitar?" Liam asked, frowning.
"And what about watching footie with me?" Connor added.
"I'm sure I'll find some time for fun stuff, but probably not as much as before."
"About footie," Connor said, turning to look at his big brother, "Can Oliver come round on Saturday to watch it on our TV? He says his TV is tiny, and his aunt doesn't have any sports channels."
"Did you forget that Mike's going to be here this weekend?" Paul asked.
"I didn't forget, but when he's here, you usually go running with him on Saturdays, and then I usually play footie or watch it while you're both out. Anyway, I've already told Mike about Oliver, and it might be interesting if he meets him."
Paul wasn't sure if his brother had a particular reason for using the word 'interesting', and he wasn't sure if he'd relish an 'interesting' situation involving Mike. However, there was no good reason to deny his brother's request.
When Paul went to collect Mike on the Friday afternoon, Paul agreed to have a cup of tea with the foster carers. While he was there, Will arrived to pick up John. The resulting chitchat frustrated the redhead because it further delayed his departure. The Marshall brothers confirmed that they would be joining everyone for Sunday lunch at Paul's house.
During the course of the evening, Mike and Connor were almost inseparable, and they spent a lot of time sequestered together discussing things that they didn't want the others to overhear. Paul noticed that Liam was disappointed when he didn't get his usual bedtime cuddle with Connor. Therefore, when Liam went to bed, he went to the little boy's room and offered him a hug. They cuddled until Liam fell asleep.
The next day, Oliver rode his bike over to Paul's house, arriving just after lunch. Everyone was in the house together for over an hour while Mike and Paul gave their food time to settle before going for their run. During that time, Mike stayed close to Connor, who tried hard to include Oliver in their conversation. However, Oliver, even more shy than usual and wary of the redhead, was doing his best to seem invisible.
"It seems that I'm not the only one who gets Mike's death stare," Stephane commented to Paul when they were alone in the kitchen and he was sure they couldn't be overheard.
"Yes, but you're a big boy, and you can take it," Paul replied. "Poor Oliver isn't so tough. Anyway, I've not noticed him glaring at you recently."
"Do you think it was a mistake to let them both be here at the same time?"
"They're both Connor's friends and would be bound to meet up eventually. It's best for it to happen where we can keep an eye on things."
When they returned from the run, Paul observed that Connor and Oliver were on the larger sofa, while Stephane was on the other sofa with Liam snuggled close to him. The little boy, ignoring the football on TV, had his eyes closed and his ears covered with headphones as he listened to music on his phone.
After showering, Paul went back downstairs to find Mike, who must have had a very quick shower, sitting next to Connor. Although Oliver was still sitting on the other side of Connor, the distance between them had increased, and the black-haired boy looked tense and uncomfortable. As soon as the match ended, Oliver stood up, quietly thanked Connor and Paul for inviting him, and announced that he was leaving.
"You're welcome to stay for tea," Paul said, with Connor nodding his agreement. "I can call your aunt and check that it's okay."
"Thanks, but I've got to go," Oliver replied, averting his eyes.
"If you don't have other plans," Paul said, "you can come for lunch tomorrow."
"Everybody will be here," Liam chipped in cheerfully.
"Everybody?" Oliver repeated, giving the impression of a startled rabbit.
"Yeah," the little boy said, surprised by Oliver's reaction. "Well, not actually everybody, cos Aunt Anne and Uncle Geoffrey won't be here. But Sarah, and David, and Susie, and John, and Will."
"N-no, thanks," Oliver stuttered, apparently horrified.
After a rapid and almost inaudible goodbye and additional thanks, he left the room to collect his bicycle. Connor followed him out.
"Sorry," Oliver said sheepishly as he got onto the bike.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, too. I forgot you don't like being with lots of people you don't know."
"It's okay. I know you think I'm weird."
"I don't think you're weird. But it's odd that you joined a footie team. That was a lot of people you didn't know."
"We had to choose some sports, and I'm good at football. They see me as a player and don't look at me as a person."
Connor didn't agree with that but decided that it wasn't the time or place to discuss it. He just sighed and shrugged his shoulders as his friend disappeared around the side of the house. When he went back indoors, he found that Stephane was alone in the living room, typing on his laptop. The young man looked up and smiled.
"Your brothers are in the kitchen, and Mike's gone to the loo," he said. After pausing briefly and frowning in thought, he added, "Oliver seems like a nice kid, and he obviously loves football. If you want, you can invite him to join us next time we go to watch the Rovers."
The Rovers, a local professional team, were far below the Premier League but were near the top of their division. Connor and Stephane occasionally went to watch them at their nearby home ground, which was relatively small but usually almost filled with enthusiastic supporters. Apart from watching them play, the boy loved the feeling of being part of the cheering crowd.
"I'll ask him, but he'll probably not want to go. He hates crowds."
Stephane returned to his work, and as Connor went to the kitchen, he saw Mike, who'd just come down the stairs.
"The weirdo's gone, then," the redhead said.
"He's not weird," Connor replied, showing his irritation. "And even if he is, you're weird, too."
"No need to be insulting," Mike said, surprised at the other boy's disapproval.
"Yeah, that's what I mean. You're both my friends, and I don't like it if one friend insults another."
"I was your friend before him."
"And before that, you said bad things about me and Liam. It would be really nice if you could be friends with Oliver without insulting him first."
Connor could see that Mike's expression was changing from surprise to a defensive annoyance. By now, he knew Mike well enough to predict that his next reaction would be to become angry. To avoid that, he changed the topic of conversation.
"Are you and John playing the truth game? Has he answered any, erm, interesting questions?"
"We've been playing," Mike replied, "but you know I can't tell you what we said."
"If you're still playing, it means that you're probably becoming friends. Do you think you can trust him yet?"
"Maybe. I think he's wanted to be friends with me even before I knew he existed."
"There you are, then," Connor said with a small smile of triumph. "That shows that he's weird, too. Everybody's weird in some way."
"Have you played the game with Oliver yet? Or the tent game?"
"He's not that sort of friend," the younger boy said. "Not the sort who wants to have secrets."
"So do you mean you don't really trust him?"
"I've only known him a few weeks, and anyway, I'm not sure I want any more secrets."
The next day, after all their guests had departed, Connor went up to his room and phoned Oliver. During the conversation, Connor tentatively mentioned Stephane's invitation to join them when they attended football matches.
"Yes, I'd like that," Oliver replied. "But are you sure it will be okay?"
Connor wasn't sure what the other boy meant. As Stephane had made the invitation and he'd passed it on, it must obviously be okay with them. He wondered if Oliver thought that someone else, such as Paul, might object.
"Of course it's okay as long as your aunt doesn't mind. But I thought you hated crowds."
"I don't like it if there are lots of people watching me or if strangers talk to me, but if I'm just part of a big crowd, then no one will even notice me."
After a few more minutes of conversation, he went downstairs and found Paul sitting at the office computer and doing some household accounts.
"Is it okay if Oliver comes round sometimes so we can do homework together? His aunt doesn't have internet, so it's easier for him to work here."
"As long as you're actually doing homework and not just playing around," Paul replied.
"We'll definitely do work. He's a genius at math, and he knows loads of cool science stuff," Connor replied earnestly. "But I'm much better at French. So we can help each other."
"Okay then, but he'll have to make sure it's okay with his aunt."
"Great," the boy replied. "And, erm, can I take some money out of my account?"
"Sure. How much do you want?" When Connor told him the amount, he said, "At least I won't need to go to the ATM. I'll let you have it by bedtime."
While his brother was still there, Paul opened up the file containing the spreadsheet of Connor's account, and he noticed two previous identical amounts. The first was a withdrawal, and the other was a payment into the account.
"That's the same as the sailing club fee," he commented.
"You said the money was ours, and we could spend it on whatever we wanted," the boy replied, frowning. "And you told us we didn't have to say what it's for."
"It is yours to spend however you want," Paul confirmed. "I was just commenting on the coincidence I noticed."
Looking embarrassed and blushing a little, Connor hesitated and then blurted out, "I wanted Oliver to join the sailing club, but he doesn't have enough money. I thought it would be more fun if we could do it together."
"As I said, I was just curious. You didn't have to tell me, but I'm glad that you felt that you wanted to."
"You buy things for people," the boy said, apparently trying to justify himself, despite his big brother's reassurance. "I like it when I can help a friend. And anyway, I'm doing it for me as well. I'd really like to be able to go sailing with Oliver."
"That's fine. It's good to help friends, and it feels good, too. You just need to be sure that you're not showing off and not making them feel embarrassed."
"Obviously," Connor said and rolled his eyes.
Will's birthday was in the last week of September, and after his gran died, the event had been acknowledged only by John and, more recently, by Helen. Although it was very unlikely that this year would be different, he was aware that the foster home made a big deal about birthdays. Therefore, when the date was approaching, he asked John not to mention it to anyone.
"Why not?" John asked.
"You know what Sarah, David, and Paul are like, and I don't want to risk anyone making a fuss. It may be okay for kids, but Paul also had a big party for his birthday. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that no one will want to do anything for my birthday, but I don't want to take even the tiniest risk. It would be just too embarrassing."
"Okay," the teen said, knowing his brother well enough to understand how he felt. "But I'm still going to get you a card and a present."
"Maybe we can have a little celebration, just the two of us, like we used to do before I went to uni."
"David and Sarah may already know when your birthday is," John said.
"Yes, but even if they remember it, they'll probably let it slide. But if you mention it, they may think it's a hint that you want them to do something about it."
Fortunately for Will, his birthday passed quietly and without any embarrassing fuss, although he was surprised when he received a card from Sarah and David as well as the card from his brother. Will and John had their own private little celebration on the following weekend, with John providing a small shop-bought cake for them to share.
A few days after his birthday, Will had just returned from work and was still trying to decide what to have for his evening meal when someone knocked on the door of his flat. On opening the door and seeing two uniformed police constables, his first thought was that it was related to the attack on John. However, his guess was quickly proved to be wrong.
"Are you William Marshall, son of Joseph Marshall?" the taller policeman asked.
"Yes," Will replied. "Is he in some sort of trouble?"
"May we come in?" the other officer asked. "It's something that's better discussed inside."
Once inside the flat, they gave him their names, told him that they had some bad news, and suggested that he might like to sit down. After he declined that suggestion, they informed him that his father had died early on Sunday morning after a road accident on Saturday night.
"Do you need me to identify him or anything?" Will asked, feeling numb.
He began to feel a little guilty at his lack of emotion on hearing about his father's death. Then he wondered what the policemen would think about his apparent coldness, and that made him feel embarrassed.
"No, that won't be necessary," the shorter constable replied. "He was identified from contents of his wallet and evidence from a witness, who'd seen him leaving a pub near the site of the incident. Enquiries were made at the pub, and they helped to confirm his identity."
"To be honest," the taller policeman added hesitantly, "his head and face were badly damaged, and you really wouldn't want to try and identify him. In any case, our colleagues found that one of the keys in his pocket fit the door at the address found in his wallet."
"I suppose he was drunk, then," Will said, very grateful that he wouldn't have to see his father's body.
"The pub landlord said your father had been drinking heavily all day and that he left the pub when the landlord refused to serve him any more," the other policeman said. "According to the hospital, his blood alcohol level was so high that they were surprised he could even walk. Anyway, he tried to cross a busy dual carriageway and was hit by a van. A few hours later, he died in hospital without regaining consciousness."
They went on to tell Will which hospital he should contact regarding the body, and they informed him that although a post-mortem wouldn't be necessary, there would be an inquest. Finally, they asked if he had any relatives or anyone else he'd like them to contact.
"There's only my brother," Will replied, "and it's better if I tell him myself."
It was only after they'd gone that he wondered if Rose had been informed or if he'd need to tell her. He decided that he'd certainly need to tell David and Sarah why he wanted to arrange a midweek visit the following evening.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
